


Chaperone Duty

by tiptoe39



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-13
Updated: 2010-05-13
Packaged: 2017-10-09 10:30:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/86305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiptoe39/pseuds/tiptoe39
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two dead-drunk boys. One archangel. And one very cunning plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chaperone Duty

**Author's Note:**

> With a hat-tip to [](http://entangled-now.livejournal.com/profile)[**entangled_now**](http://entangled-now.livejournal.com/) , at whom I squee at every opportunity.

Castiel doesn't travel with the Winchesters. It isn't safe. Although Heaven and Hell can't track the boys, they _can_ track him. So he stays away.

Gabriel, on the other hand, is more powerful than your average bear. He can hide from whomever he chooses, for as long as he chooses, and that counts for something. So when he finally comes around to realizing that protecting the Winchesters is in his best interests, he offers to chaperone.

Ha, ha. Not really.

But when the boys are falling down drunk and Dean can't even get his cell phone out of his pocket, much less control his thumb well enough to dial a number, Gabriel's there. Carping the whole time, but there. He gets Dean as far as the car before the moron collapses entirely, lying across his precious Impala's back seat and drooling on the upholstery in a way that he will surely be horrified at tomorrow. No matter how drunk he is, he'll never puke in that car, though. Never in a million beers.

Sam gets further, as far as the motel, in fact. But he's gigantic and slumpy, and he hurts Gabriel's shoulders the whole way, breathing sour breath on his ear and still asking the guy in the bar for one more game of pool, asking the bartender for one more for the road, even though they've left the place long behind and managed to make it through ten minutes of stagger-walking. Damn it, if only these kids hadn't expressly prohibited him zipping them from place to place. He could have just dropped them off and been done with it. But no, Gabriel rolls his eyes and does his civic duty, dragging Sam in the door and laying all six feet plus of Sasquatch on the nearest bed. Pulling his finally-free shoulders in big circles, stretching out the kinks in his neck, he drops on the bed on the far side and relaxes, his tireless angel eyes open to any movement.

So of course he sees it when Sam's eyes blink wide open.

It's so sudden that he thinks Sam's been possessed, or has gone into a psychic trance. Or at the very least, a drink-induced manic episode. But Sam's movements as he sits up are slow and deliberate. A little wobbly, but nowhere near out of control. He swings his feet over the side of the bed, smiles at Gabriel, and says, "Finally."

Gabriel goggles. "Finally? What do you mean, finally? Finally what?"

Sam gets to his feet and walks a few unsteady steps, then drops his hand down to Gabriel's shoulder and leans on him. "I finally tricked you."

And with a sudden rocking of weight and a creaking of bedsprings, Sam is on all fours on the bed, crawling over Gabriel's body and smiling-- _smiling_\-- with a purpose that Gabriel's never seen. "Did you know I can drink Dean under the table?" he says. His face is barely a foot from Gabriel's, and it's bearing down on him like crazy. "Little-known fun fact."

Gabriel's really expecting Allen Funt to come on with the Candid Camera any minute now. But seconds pass and there's still no studio audience, not a single lens focused on him from what he can detect by stretching out his senses. If Sam's trying to make a fool of him, he's doing it in a way nobody can see. What for? What's going on here? Sam tricked him, OK, but why?

Then he realizes Sam's stroking his hair.

"You have such pretty hair," Sam says with a dopey grin.

Gabriel smirks. "And you were just telling me you're sober?"

"Pfft." Sam blows air through his lips. "Like I could do this if I was sober. No, I'm _totally_ wasted." He's still close, and Gabriel tenses up as Sam's hand drops from his hair to his neck. Caressing his neck. This has ceased to make any sense. Well, yes, it makes sense on the surface, he knows what's _happening_, but logic falls apart when he tries to process that it's Sam doing this. Even drunk Sam.

He tries to reason it out. "So, what, you're a little bi-curious when you're drunk?" He huffs out a laugh. "You do know I'm an angel under here, right?"

"Not just _any_ angel." Sam melts down from all fours, more and more of his weight falling onto Gabriel's body with each second, and his mouth comes close, too fucking close. A moment where Gabriel thinks... but then Sam drops his lips to Gabriel's ear at the last minute. "A _fucking sexy_ angel," he whispers.

"You-- you don't know what you're doing, kid," Gabriel says.

"Oh ho, I don't?" A chuckle that breaks in the middle. "Let me show you just how much I know what I'm doing." And with that, Sam's lips are skirting the side of Gabriel's neck, just below his ear. Gabriel lets out a soft sound and shivers. Sam's not done there -- he licks hot tongue down to the hollow of Gabriel's throat, slides a wet tongue up under his chin and fastens his mouth to Gabriel's jaw. Sucks for just a moment. And then stops. Knocks his forehead against Gabriel and looks at him seriously.

"I want you," he says in the breathy rasp of a man under the influence of many, many things at once. Air, alcohol, fatigue, lust. And he's still dead serious, his eyes dark and bright. "I want you so much I arranged for you to get me back to this hotel room alone so I could seduce you."

The eyes, the eyes are too much.

"Don't let me down, Gabriel," Sam says. "Don't tell me no."

"_Shit,_" Gabriel says, and his eyes slide closed.

Sam's mouth ravishes his then, hot, and Gabriel can do nothing but go with it. It feels damn good, Sam's insistent and a fucking great kisser even with the sour alcohol breath, and Gabriel's higher brain functions short-circuited back when Sam's mouth first touched his neck.

He's just raising his arms to cradle Sam's face and rake through his hair when he realizes Sam's _smiling_ into it, the little bastard. He's taking this as a _triumph._

There's no way Gabriel's going to let him have that.

He pulls off Sam's shirt in a motion faster than the crack of a whip and runs his hands along Sam's sides as they kiss, index fingers and thumbs sliding up to rub a pitter-patter beat against Sam's nipples. Sam twitches and his body jumps on Gabriel's. His mouth lets up for a hot second, just to gasp, and then his eyes are cat's eyes peering down at Gabriel. "Damn," he whispers.

"Not a chance," Gabriel says, and he cranes his neck upward to catch Sam's lips again.

They're a mess of grinding and rolling, one minute Sam on top pulling off Gabriel's clothes and the next Gabriel straddling him, working off his belt and sliding a hand into the open fly of his jeans. The bed groans underneath them, and they groan above it. When Gabriel finds his hand wrapped around Sam's cock he thinks he's just found the fucking Holy Grail, so amazingly warm and vital in hs hand, and he lowers his head to taste because are how sweet it _feels_ he can't resist. Sam cries out and shudders, his hips bucking up and his hands finding Gabriel's hair. "Jesus, Gabriel!"

"One out of two ain't bad," Gabriel says with a small chuckle before his mouth lowers again onto delicious flesh, so hot, leaking into his mouth.

Sam swallows hard. He tries to find his voice and manages to choke out something that might be a syllable of a word or might just be an incoherent yelp His hands twist and curl in Gabriel's hair. His chin juts up toward the ceiling. His body bucks wildly into the suction of Gabriel's mouth.

And then all at once he pulls back, sits up. Panting, Face red. Looking at Gabriel with wide eyes.

Gabriel panics again. He panicked when Sam started, and he panics again when he stops. He's not good at the transitions. "Sobered up?" he asks, a mite nervously. "You, uh, you were pretty gone there for a while. I shouldn't have taken adv--"

He's grabbed, kissed hard. His hand is placed on the hot column of Sam's erection. "I was going to come in your mouth," Sam whispers.

The dirty words go right to Gabriel's gut, and now he's aware of his own need, his cock hard to aching and obstinately pushing up against his stomach. Sam sees, and promptly blows Gabriel's mind again: "If you want to fuck me, you'd better do it now."

Gabriel's first thought is distressingly pedestrian, and it comes right out of his mouth, no thanks to his traitorous mind. "Wait. You want _me_ to screw _you?_ Not the other way--"

Another kiss and Gabriel gives up asking anything at all.

Sam rolls to his stomach, parting his legs. His hands pull back to spread himself open for Gabriel, and oh hell that's just _it._ Gabriel angel-zaps everything he needs right into hand.

Sam relaxes into the first pressure of fingers, whining and easing back so readily it's as if he's begging for it. Gabriel can't not oblige. He climbs over Sam, sinks into him, and spills little kisses along the ridge of his back.

Sam slides a hand onto his cock and another into the sheets and clutches hard with both of them. His body rises up off the mattress in a series of hot lunges. Gabriel can do nothing but drive into him, again and again, and muffle his cries in the perfect skin of Sam's back.

"So good," Sam keeps huffing as he presses up against Gabriel. "So, so good."

His climax is too near already. Gabriel's got a lot of control usually but this is new, this is urgent and intense in a way he's never had, and he comes abruptly and without so much as a word of warning. A moment later and Sam's behind him, spurting up into the sheets and then collapsing over the stain uncaringly, wet above and wet below. Panting. Now laughing.

Gabriel pulls out of him not without great regret, flops over onto the bed next to him and just relaxes. Doesn't seem to be much else to do. Not after _that._

Sam's rubbing his face into the pillow, inhaling and exhaling to try to dispel the shaky laughter that's still rising up from his chest. "Oh, shit," he says through desperate breaths and giddy chuckles. "Oh, damn, that was good. Oh, God. I knew it. I knew you'd be amazing."

"You did, did you?" Gabriel's ego is very pleased to hear this, which is a nice followup to his id getting so damn satisfied.

"Hell, yeah." Sam gives him a sidelong look. He's still grinning so hard it makes Gabriel's face hurt just to look at him. "I mean, come on. The Trickster! You know every other trick in the book. I figured you'd know a few good ones here, too. Although..." He gets pensive. "That was pretty straightforward, actually. And kind of fast."

Oh. Never mind, ego. Gabriel considers pouting.

But then he just smirks. "Well, I've got to give you some reason to come back, right?" he declares. "Besides. Why would I waste my best moves on you when you're drunk? Next time come to me clean and sober."

Sam's face softens. He looks as though he's batting an idea around in his head. He rolls to the side to look at Gabriel, but keeps his mouth clamped shut.

"Just spill it," Gabriel advises.

Half-lidded, sincere eyes scrutinize his face. "Next time?" he says. "You're... okay with this, then?"

Gabriel's smile is wide and genuine. "_You_ tricked _me._ That makes you dangerous. I'd be an idiot to let you out of my sight now."

And come to think of it, he should be learning a lesson from this little incident. He has to be more on the ball if he wants to keep one step ahead of these Winchester boys. Now that they've proven how very well they can get to him.

Maybe he'll actually take this chaperone duty seriously from now on.

Ha, ha. Not really.


End file.
